On Eagle's Wings
by Sutori-Artifex
Summary: A defeated hero is given the chance to rise again in service to the Alliance. When he gets to Draenor, he is granted command of the Lunarfall Garrison. With a history of leadership and decisive military victories, he seems a perfect fit for Garrison Commander. Although his past haunts him, he is more than ready to take on whatever comes his way. (Slight AU, OCs, Rating may change!)


**"Oh look the Sci-Fi author is trying his hand at Fantasy for the umphteenth time! I thought he was done after he deleted Nobleborn and that one random Warcraft fic that dropped off the gallery after about a week or two!"**

 **Gotta keep plugging away at my attempts to expand my horizons, though. I'm trying again with the Warcraft and hoping it works. I doubt anybody noticed it at all as a matter of fact, it was all over the damn place and I generally wasn't proud of it. But I'm not proud of most things that I write. So. Hey. Woohoo.**

 **To anybody who just wants to read what you clicked for already, I apologize for FanfictiondotNet's inability to create a proper journalling/status update system and outright outlawing the use of chapter space for standalone author's notes.**

 **So here lies what is intended to be a story of adventure, of conquest and triumph, of banter and laughs, of love and hate, of trust and betrayal, of life and death. Gee, when I put it like that it sounds like I'm writing the next entry in A Song of Ice and Fire.**

 **Last time I attempted this I formatted it in a confusing manner that lacked stable chronology, with an intent to set up two separate plots A and B to provide entertainment and exposition respectively through the use of memory shards or whatever I called them.**

 **I forgot books existed.**

 **Journals it is.**

 **Last time I attempted this, I dropped the canon-shitting Grand Good Guy into the opening quest of Warlords of Draenor like a fockin' imbecile and poorly novelized the whole shebang like people cared.**

 **"Gee, I really trust this guy with my Warcraft now haha."**

 **First things first this is AU. Not "** **スゴイ！ かわいいデスね！ 高校！** **" AU, not "Everything's the same except everyone has Mettaton's legs," AU.**

 **Shit there goes my April Fool's joke. And bonus cookies and a shout-out for anybody who can translate the Google-Fu Japanese.**

 **I won't spend too much time ranting about the AU's properties, I'll let you figure it out. There are also several OCs, though considering what fiction I'm writing for, this is probably expected.**

 **If you like it, leave a nice review telling me why and what I did right and wrong, lemme know what you want to see more of. If you don't, leave a constructive review telling me what I did wrong and right. Aight?**

* * *

 **Lunarfall, Year 30.**

In the sprawling grassland hills of Draenor's Shadowmoon Valley, within the shade of a lush forest and under the protection of towering mountains, stood a mighty testament to the strength and tenacity of the Alliance. A military garrison that had become akin to a small city in more than just size alone.

Mere hours ago, numerous laborers and military dependants had flooded the streets as craftsmen shouted praise for their wares, adventurers gathered for heavy drinks and laughter in the inn, and scientists and engineers developed new equipment for the defense of Lunarfall and the offensives against the Iron Horde and others who threaten Azeroth and Draenor.

It had since fallen silent, save for the clanking of plate armor as guards patrolled those same streets, and the hushed whispers of roguish travellers telling stories to those few patrons still awake.

The centerpiece of Lunarfall was its town hall, a modest stone castle at the top of the hill overlooking the garrison. Built as a command center and living quarters for the Alliance officers and advisors who ran the garrison, it was masterfully designed by Baros Alexston to prioritize both comfort and security, with living quarters being built inside the hills upon and before which the main building stood, and the command center and offices built above ground going upward.

And underneath the town hall, the Commander of Lunarfall and her forces sat at his desk in his chambers, his quill pen steeped in its inkwell, an empty journal before him. An empty canvas upon which he could write his thoughts. A tall, masculine human sat in an ornate, cushioned desk chair. Passionate blue eyes stared down the empty first page of the fresh new journal, occasionally darting to the flickering oil lamp to his right. He had an aged, jaded look and aura about him, though at 32 could be considered young by human standards, and long, golden hair flowing down his simple white linen robes showed for it. Tanned, calloused fingers twirled the feather pen as he wracked his brain for the proper words to put down into paper; with ink he only had the one shot.

After many minutes of pondering what to write, his eyes glanced over to the stack of older journals to his left one last time. The tip of the pen left the inkwell and began dancing along the surface of the first page.

* * *

 ** _Thursday, July 27th of Year 30_**

 _I decided that, the more eventful my stay in Draenor becomes, that my collection of personal memoirs was wanting for a journal written more recently. I was also told that perhaps it would be conducive to my health, to have a place to write and to vent, even if only to myself._

 _As with all my personal memoirs I begin this journal with an introduction of myself and my titles. From thereon my journal becomes an account of my encounters on Draenor and the daily happenings of the Lunarfall Garrison. To those who do not enjoy expositional drivel I recommend turning the page. To those of you who are reading this and wonder who I am, allow me to explain._

 _Know first that I am Lucian Aquila, Commander of the Lunarfall Garrison, a reluctant officer in the Alliance army, and once Grandmaster of the Order of the Knights Solaré. After the **disbanding** of the Order, I had spent two years vacation in Stranglethorn. Originally I had been there, with minimal contact with the outside world, to collect my thoughts and relax for once. _

_My three month peaceful getaway turned into two years of drunken vagrancy. I had been banned from Stormwind for past sins come back to haunt me, made a scapegoat by the Alliance for deeds not my own, marked for death by the Horde on account of my race. With Dalaran falling to Proudmoore and Shattrath being too distant to return to without braving Alliance territory, I felt I had nowhere else to go, nowhere else to live. Prior to that I had sent my daughter away to live with my brother in Darnassus, and barring the occasional letter to what family I had, I was alone._

 _It was the will of King Varian Wrynn that several SI:7 agents located me and brought me to Stormwind Keep. He offered me something that under normal circumstances I could never accept. He explained that he was in need of me. In need of my talents more precisely, talents that I had since abandoned._

 _His Majesty explained what had occurred in Draenor prior to my summons; the Iron Horde poured into Azeroth with the intent to conquer it. With another threat to Azeroth, he reasoned, it was my duty to rise to defend our world. In exchange for accepting a draft into the Alliance military, he would lift the ban from Stormwind (that he explains he made in grievous error from the start), elevate me to the rank of Commander, grant me land and titles in Draenor upon pushing the Irons back and establishing a foothold there, and bring my family to the garrison upon its completion._

 _For the sake of my family I could not refuse, and I was shipped off to the Badlands to push the Iron Horde back into Draenor. Those who read this: Do you think I felt regret as I slashed through countless Orcish men and women, the same people that I would consider brothers and sisters if not for such unfortunate circumstances and allegiances, or at least humility at the speed with which a good world can be turned into a hell? If you think so, then you are wrong. All I thought of on that day was the honor and glory I could bring back to myself, and of the future I could obtain for those under my command who were still alive._

 _Only now do I look back and recall the faces of the dead on both sides, and the details of our battle. The setting, the climate, the fog of war – that toxic blend of smoke, dirt, ash, and misted blood. I was no stranger to the hell of war, and the moment my blade tasted Orcish blood, I was lost to the rush of nostalgia, of old wounds and older victories._

 _The establishment of the Lunarfall Garrison was easier than I thought it would be, with Baros Alexston's expertise, Lieutenant Thorn's strategic genius and efficiency, and their chemistry. We developed a tiny camp into a citadel. A bastion of the Alliance's power. The people who made their home here love us, they love this Alliance, and the Draenei who inhabit this area of Draenor welcome us with open arms as heroes and protectors._

 _But as I look out over what I have created, and I breath in the crisp air of eternal night here in the valley of the shadow of the moon, I feel little more than remorse; for few people, commoner, craftsman, soldier, fisherman, lumberjack, miner alike even so much as know my name, nor do I know theirs. It was an old way of mine. Each man and woman under my command, I sought to know them, and in turn they came to know me, and we were family._

 _I have been reluctant to give the Garrison the same respect._

 _Tomorrow's to-do-list:_

 _1._ _Explore the Garrison for once, meet people, be myself again._

 _2._ _Welcome my family, they should be arriving… Wrynn was late in handing them the message._

 _3._ _Send a letter to Nel._

 _4._ _Establish contact with the Horde's stronghold in Frostfall._

 _5._ _Not get caught doing 3 and 4 by Thorn._

* * *

 **Expositional Prologue chapter complete.**

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